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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27023986">Only Trust</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarbLoading/pseuds/CarbLoading'>CarbLoading</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Static Shock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bathing/Washing, Coming Out, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know if there's a plot yet, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Post-Canon, Pride Parades, Realistic Takes on Being a Superhero, References to Original Static (1993) Comic, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, bisexual awakening</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:40:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,945</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27023986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarbLoading/pseuds/CarbLoading</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What starts as their first Pride parade, opens the door to a long road of self-discovery for Virgil. He and Richie find themselves having to navigate through uncharted waters, both in their friendship and in the world around them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Richie "Gear" Foley/Virgil "Static" Hawkins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. First Steps</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>At the start of this fic Virgil is asked if he’s queer, he does say no, but that's only because he hasn't had his bi awakening yet. Things will eventually get gayer.</p><p>This is my first time posting to a fanfic site in over ten years. I have no idea how this experience will go, where it will take me, or how much I'll stick to it, but I really wanted to get this put out there. The SS fandom is so small and I didn't want to keep this little bit that I do have locked away.</p><p>I'm pretty sure this story was inspired by a post talking about how sad it is watching closeted kids having to take all of their Pride stuff off when they go home at the end of the day.</p><p>[Chapter posted November 15, 2020]</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Virgil's phone rang about forty-five minutes after he'd gotten home. The glitter was still in his hair and body paint on his arms. Beads and glowsticks still hung freely from his neck. Despite the late hour, he'd been sitting at the kitchen table, talking animatedly about the day to his pops.</p><p>It had been his first Pride Parade. He'd gone first as Virgil, flanked by Daisy, Frieda, Shenice, and of course Richie. Then he'd gone as Static, after he and Richie managed to slip away from the girls after "getting lost in the crowd" for an hour or so.</p><p>Enough time to let Gear come out to the world.</p><p>The crowds screamed with glee at the top of their lungs. Static floated beside him, a pillar of support, absolutely glowing - and not because of his powers.</p><p>They returned as Virgil and Richie just in time to hear Shenice, Frieda and Daisy close to bursting with the news - "We know! We saw!" Virgil reassured them. There was no missing the touched gleam in Richie's eye as the girls went on and on with happiness and support for Gear.</p><p>Enough support to let Richie come out to his friends.</p><p>The evening ran on. Eventually, their group had to part ways. Daisy's mom came for the girls, but Virgil and Richie waved off the offer for a ride, insisting Sharon was coming to get them. The retreating car turning out of sight was the signal for Static and Gear to come out and play again.</p><p>The decently numbered remaining Pride goers cheered for them. One fan graced Gear's shoulders with a billowing flag in the form of a cape. Weepy and with an unrestrained grin, they gave Gear a massive hug. Questions turned to Static. Him too? Static gently corrected them; no, he was here to support Gear, to openly show his support for everyone else. They smiled for him regardless. </p><p>Beads and pins and other colorful paraphernalia were showered on the two of them by the delighted masses. Static had packed away his coat at some time during the event and let a group of young teens working a face painting booth go ham on his arms. There was a glitter bomb at one point.</p><p>A particularly charming and polite young man asked if he could give Static a kiss on the cheek. When Static had hesitated, just a slightly bit nervous by the request, Gear swooped in to slap a reassuring hand on his shoulder and lightened the mood with a "kiss" of his own to Static's cheek opposite the fan - all Gear could really do was smoosh his visor against Static's face, but <em>details</em>. It made them all laugh and Static gave the go ahead.</p><p>The fan got his kiss. It was tender and chaste, and Static found himself caught off guard by how his heartbeat spiked a bit during the whole thing, but that was neither here nor there. The fan thanked him and went on his way.</p><p>Virgil had told Pops of their plans to spend the day at Pride. Richie's folks knew he was spending the night out with friends. It was a Saturday night and rules relaxed. Night was fully upon them when Static and Gear found themselves headed for home. They were tired, overstimulated, and Gear might have gotten a <em>little</em> sunburn from his coming out party in the early afternoon.</p><p>Richie would need to wear long sleeves until it faded, just in case someone tried to put two and two together. Secret identity outed by tanlines, the <em>thought</em>.</p><p>Finally, they set to part ways. "I'm gonna stop by HQ first to take all this stuff off," Gear had said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder, "My dad'll freak if he sees any of it."</p><p>Static looked him up and down. Gear had programmed his visor to cover his face in streaks of rainbow, rather than the usual green, under which Richie had gotten an ornate rainbow painted on his cheek. A rainbow wristband was stretched tightly over his bicep, beads still dangled from his neck, glitter coated every inch of him, and someone had slapped a rainbow sticker on Gear's helmet at some point.</p><p>A single somber moment had passed over them at the reality of Richie taking his first step back into the closet called home. Static shook it off with a soft chuckle and a quick zap, made the glitter suddenly find his body much more attractive than Gear's.</p><p>Gear had thrown him a grateful smile and they said their good-byes, bumped fists, and flew off.</p><p>Pops had been waiting for Virgil's return, sitting at the kitchen table in a pair of comfortable flannel pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. True to his bad habit, he had a cup of coffee in hand while pouring over a few papers and an open book that were neatly spread in front of him. Taking a few minutes to throw off his Static gear, Virgil joined him to excitedly recount his day, both the Virgil and Static side of it. After a slight mental deliberation, he even shyly shared about the cheek kiss.</p><p>Then the phone call.</p><p>Virgil and his pops traded a glance. It was much too late for the phone to be ringing.Virgil went for the reciever since his chair was closer. Discomfort turned in his stomach. The call about his mom had come in the wake of night.</p><p>"Hello?"</p><p>"Hey Virg," Richie greeted, his words light, but an uncomfortable strain in his tone.</p><p>"Richie," Virgil stated more than asked, mostly for Pops, who was staring tensely, than anything. "Hey man, you okay?" Pops perked up, concern etching into his features.</p><p>"Yeah, uh," Richie's voice shook, he took a breath, "Can- Can I stay the night there tonight?" The words were thick; Virgil could hear the swell of emotion damned up behind them.</p><p>"Stay the night?" He parroted again for Pops, "Yeah- Yeah, of course," he answered, even a bit before Pops was nodding his confirmation. "Do you need us to come get you?" Virgil offered without permission, but he had a feeling Pops would forgive him.</p><p>"Nah, I've got my stuff," code for his Gear equipment, "I'll be there soon," Richie said.</p><p>"Okay,” and because it was obvious something did, Virgil asked, “What happened?”</p><p>There was an agonizing three seconds of silence on the other line before Richie said with heartbroken defeat, "My dad found out, Virg."</p><p>Questions exploded in Virgil's mind. How? What happened? What did he say? What did he do? Wait, maybe he only found out Richie went to Pride? Not that Richie was gay? But inside, something told Virgil that wasn’t the case.</p><p><em>Was Richie okay</em>?</p><p>But he shoved them all aside. All that mattered was getting Richie <em>here</em>. </p><p>Richie didn't have a cell phone yet and the shock voxes weren't set up to call regular phone lines. That meant Richie was standing somewhere - his house phone or a pay phone - unmoving, dealing with this all by himself.</p><p>Virgil just wanted to comfort his friend.</p><p>"Oh, Rich…" Virgil managed, "Just get here as soon as you can. We'll be here for you. The lights are on and everything."</p><p>"Thanks, V,"  Richie murmured and the line clicked.</p><p>Slowly, staring but not really seeing, Virgil returned the phone to its reciever. A sullen, heavy weight settled in his heart, the kind that hurts just a little more when it happens after a day that went so well.</p><p>"Virgil?" His pops' voice snapped Virgil back to the kitchen. "What happened? Is Richie all right?"</p><p>Oh, that's right. <em>Pops</em>. He didn't know about Richie, not yet. He hesitated, choosing his words carefully.</p><p>"Richie's dad... didn't know he was going to the pride parade," Virgil said quietly, "And he… found out." Virgil hoped Pops would be able to take what he knew about Sean Foley and draw his own conclusion. Virgil imagined that Richie had a plan to come out to Pops soon, so it wouldn't be the end if Virgil said something, but even so, it wasn't Virigil's secret to tell.</p><p>"I take it Mr. Foley wasn't a very big fan of the idea of his son attending a gay pride event."</p><p>Virgil nodded in solemn confirmation. Good ol' Pops.</p><p>“And does Mr. Foley know Richie’s gay?”</p><p>Virgil choked, "W-What?” He frantically waved his hands, as if to wave away the accusation, “No, I just meant-!"</p><p>Pops held his hand up for silence. He gave an amused, exasperated look. "Virgil, the thing about knowing your secret identities is, if Gear comes out as gay at the local Pride event, I'm gonna see it on the evening news."</p><p>“Oh.” A beat of silence passed and Virgil dropped his hands back to his sides, berating himself slightly for that not occuring to him. “No, he… he didn’t know.”</p><p>“Does he know now?”</p><p>“I’m not sure yet,” Virgil admitted as he walked towards the kitchen door, “But I think so.”</p><p>With a quick reassurance that he'd be right back, Virgil went and switched on the front porch light. He peeked outside, as if he could summon Richie just by wishing, before retreating back to the kitchen. With a sigh, Virgil deflated back into his seat, his spirit sapped.</p><p>A beat passed, and in the spot inside him where his happiness had dimmed, a spark of anger, injustice, flared up in its place.</p><p>"Why couldn't Richie just have this? He was amazing at the parade today, Pops, you should have seen him! Courage radiated off of him. We had so much fun. Every single person smiled for Gear, for Richie. People <em>cried</em> for him. Nothing could have gone any better." A tendril of sadness threatened the spark as Richie's sullen voice replayed in his head. "And then this…"</p><p>Virgil was desperate to convey just how much this weighed on his heart. How much it weighed on his best friend.</p><p>"Richie had been so scared to come out." Just telling Virgil in the weeks before the parade, after Daisy and Frieda suggested they go, had taken so much. "But it was Richie's plan to come out as Gear, he'd wanted it so bad, for every person who was afraid like him. He wanted them to have a hero to look up to." And hell, if Virgil didn't know what that felt like.</p><p>A hand on his shoulder broke Virgil from his thoughts. Pops was leaning over in his seat, and gave a squeeze.</p><p>"It's like you said," Pops said gently, smiling, "We'll be there for him."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oops, I think this chapter is accidentally really short. I need to have my beta reader go over the other chunks I have written out before I feel ready to post those.</p><p>    I coincidentally started writing this a few days before pride month and then when I realized June was coming up it felt too perfect.</p><p>    I've read a lot of Static Shock fic with racist language when referring to Virgil, so if readers, especially black readers, notice anything that bothers you or seems :/ and you want to say something, please do so. I'd love to hear from you and am open for discussion about problematic writing tropes.</p><p>    So, it's been so long since I've posted an fic anywhere, but I'm pretty sure I'm definitely one of those people who thrives on feedback. Tell me what you liked, tell me what you didn't. I like hearing your thoughts.</p><p>    ---</p><p>    Art of this chapter: https://gyroshrike.tumblr.com/post/636055504590962688/after-reading-a-static-shock-fanfic-called-only</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Cracks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CHAPTER TOOK LONGER THAN PLANNED BECAUSE I CAN'T GET IN CONTACT WITH MY BETA READER. HA-HAH. *FINGER GUNS*</p><p>I do want everyone to know that I have every intention of making this fic strongly focus on Virgil. Right now we're seeing a lot of Richie's struggles and Richie IS going to play a big part in this fic, because, duh, he's the other half of this duo, but in most cases Virgil is going to be guiding the story. I feel like so many VR fics I've read are Richie's POV or focus on Richie's issues exclusively that I wanted something centered more on Virgil, how he sees the world, what he thinks and feels, how he deals with things. And eventually, it is going to shift to his issues and growth as well.</p><p>(I mean, we're still going to see Richie's POV and development too of course.)</p><p>I have a habit when I'm writing (a good habit? a bad habit? I don't know) where I just write out long scenes of characters talking and just kind of... existing?</p><p>[Chapter posted January 11, 2021]</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>While they waited, Pops moved them to the living room couch. Good thing he did, because Richie's knock was so light, they might not have heard it otherwise. Had Pops not already known Gear's secret identity, it would have been a little suspicious how quickly Richie got to their house. Virgil rushed from his seat to open it. </p><p>In the yellow glow of the porch light, Virgil noticed that Richie had already tucked away any hint of his hero gear. In his street clothes and sneakers, he had a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and his hood up. Virgil vaguely wondered if he flew here without his uniform and mask.</p><p>Richie was staring at the ground when Virgil opened the door, but when he dragged his eyes up, Virgil could see a heaviness to them that made his chest clench. All of the happiness radiating off of him just a few hours before was gone. He looked… so defeated.</p><p>It was when Virgil stepped aside to let Richie in that Richie seemed to register that Pops was awake too. Hesitation caught Richie mid-step, and after closing and locking the door for the night, Virgil moved to his side, resting a hand on Richie’s shoulder</p><p>"Pops saw Gear on the news,” Virgil explained, “He knows.” Richie's eyes widened a fraction. The revelation didn’t seem to calm him much. He and Virgil shared a look. As smart as they both are, neither of them had thought of that.</p><p>Richie shifted his bag uncertainly. “Sorry for the late visit Mr. H," was all he said in response.</p><p>“You are welcome any time Richie,” he gestured to the couch, “Care to join us?" he asked with that comforting, fatherly tone Virgil knew so well. It seemed enough to unstick Richie from his spot, who pulled his hood down, set his bag off to the side, and silently made his way over.</p><p>On the far left of the couch was Pops, Richie scooted to the far right to make room for Virgil in the middle.</p><p>It was then that Virgil noticed the patchy, red marks on the left side of Richie's face. The same cheek where the rainbow had been painted, now only the smallest flakes of the paint remaining.</p><p>Virgil suddenly wondered if he knew what happened.</p><p>"Can I ask what happened to your face?" Pops asked first. Even in the subdued light of the living room lamps, he must have seen it too.</p><p>Richie's hand snapped up to cover his cheek, his eyes going wide. For a split second he almost looked panicked.</p><p>"Your cheek’s just really red," Virgil added casually. After a second, Richie visibly relaxed, rubbing the spot before dropping his hand.</p><p>"Just some paint, like what Virgil's got," Richie gestured to Virgil's arms that were still caked with paint, "I picked it off on my way over here," he explained, eyes trained on the floor in front of him. 'Picked' was putting it lightly, Virgil thought. There were angry scratch marks over the whole area, no broken skin, but enough to tell that Richie hadn't been gentle.</p><p>Two different kinds of silence fell over them for the moment. Pops had a very patient counselor-ly way of waiting these things out, one that allows people to open up on their own terms. For Virgil it was more of that best friend way, where he just wanted to give Richie space to breathe. The tension in Richie's shoulders was obvious. He stared down at his hands as they mindlessly fiddled. Finally, he sighed.</p><p>"I thought I took everything off before I went home," Richie said, voice full of regret. "I totally forgot about my face. My dad had just got off a late shift and he and my mom were having dinner," Richie sighed again, "Walked right through the front door with it," Richie made a suction cup sound with his mouth and flicked his fingers open towards the red spot, "Smack dab right there for my parents to see. And my dad..."</p><p>Pops still didn't say anything, even as Richie trailed off and made a frustrated noise as he reached under his glasses to scrub at his eyes. Virgil took the cue from the seasoned counselor, who specialized in getting kids and teens to open up to him, and just waited.</p><p>"And boy, did my dad see it," Richie continued, "I was almost to the stairs when my dad whips around and asks me," Richie's face soured and he said in a mockingly deep voice, "<em>'What's that on your face?'</em>"</p><p>Virgil suddenly remembered how Richie tensed when Pops asked a similar question. Richie put his hand back on his cheek.</p><p>"And he walks up and demands to see it," Richie mimes his hand being dragged off his face. The weight of the memory must have hit Richie because he pauses and drops his hands back into his lap, the energy of his reenactment gone. "Boy, does he go at it. My mom tried to step in, but you know once my dad gets going nothing can really cool him down.”</p><p>Watching Richie, Virgil wondered if there was some physical comfort that he would appreciate. Should he put a hand on his shoulder? His leg? What was best at a time like this? What was needed of him? </p><p>What if he didn't want to be touched at all? Virgil had never struggled with how to reach out to his best friend. Why was he so unsure right now?</p><p>Wedging his hands under his glasses again, Richie pressed his face into his palms.</p><p>“I really messed up…”</p><p>Pops stood up, tugging the coffee table a little closer to the couch, and sat on it, directly in front of Richie.</p><p>"Now you listen to me. You did no such thing," Pops said, deathly serious, "Your father has been taught a special kind of hate, one that is fueled just from people being who they are. You, Richie, did nothing wrong just by being who you are.” He placed both hands on Richie’s shoulders.</p><p>Slowly, almost warily, Richie looked up at Pops.</p><p>"Would it have been easier not to deal with all this? At this age? Definitely, but it's too late to regret that now. All you can do is move forward and <em>never</em> apologize for existing.” Pops pulled back, perhaps wary of overcrowding Richie. "Your father was willing to try and change for someone he once hated. I think he'd be willing to change for his son. Now, you have no responsibility as a teenager to teach your grown father things he should have learned a long time ago, but if you want to and have the patience, I think he'd be willing to learn. Bring him by the center once in a while if you need a supportive place to talk to him. I can be with you if you want. And there's learning material there to help him understand what kids like you go through."</p><p>Richie tore his gaze away, dropping it back to the floor. Pop's words hung in the air. Virgil watched, his heart swelling as he listened to them. But ice cold sadness, like shrapnel, pierced that delicate bubble of warmth when he saw the glistening sheen in Richie's eyes.</p><p>“That means a lot, Mr. H,” Richie said in a quiet voice. There was a beat of stillness.</p><p>"But something is still on your mind," Pops finished for him knowingly. Virgil could see it too, that unspoken 'but' balanced on the tip of Richie's tongue.</p><p>Richie looked like he was working himself up to say something, then finally, "I'm the one who told him."</p><p>A surge of questions resurfaced in Virgil's gut, swirling like kicked up dust.</p><p>"My dad was ready to believe that I'd just gone to the parade with everyone for fun. It's just a thing teenagers do, you know? He was still a little weird about it, but nothing much more than normal, I guess. I could've just let it be, but he just <em>kept saying things</em>," Richie's hands clenched on top of his knees, anger threading his brows as he recalled the memory, "I hated it. So, I just– I went off on him. I wanted him to know all my accomplishments, all the good stuff I've done and if it all really meant nothing because I'm –" Richie cut himself off and hung his head.</p><p>Before he could stop himself, Virgil caught himself blurting out, "You didn't tell him you're Gear, did you?"</p><p>"Come on," Richie replied instantly, tired but not angry, and looked up. "You know me better than that." Richie tried to throw some of his usual sass into the jab, but it didn't quite manage to reach his eyes.</p><p>"So, you feel like if you hadn't told your father, none of this would have happened," Pops concluded for him.</p><p>A slight tremble shook Richie's chin and lower lip, but his voice was steady when he croaked, "Yeah."</p><p>Just then, the phone rang. All three of them looked up. <em>Now what?</em> Pops excused himself and disappeared beyond the kitchen door. Virgil could hear his deep, "Hello?" before it shut and muffled the rest of the conversation.</p><p>The two sat in silence for a moment, watching the door, seeing if they could hear any hints of the discussion beyond. Virgil found his voice first, “Think it’s your folks?”</p><p>“Probably,” Richie said sourly, “Probably want to make sure I’m actually here.” Virgil remembered the last time Richie ran away. Richie had lied and said he was spending the night at Virgil’s house.</p><p>“You don’t think they’ll make you go home, do you?”</p><p> But just as Richie opened his mouth to answer, footsteps on the stairs announced the two of them were no longer alone.</p><p>“What’s going on down here?” Sharon asked, rubbing an eye warily. She’d cleaned her makeup off, her hair was in a satin wrap, and a plush robe was swaddled over her pajamas. It was obvious she’d either just woken up or had been on the very brink of bedtime.</p><p>Pops returned from the kitchen at the same moment and caught sight of Sharon.</p><p>“I’m sorry, honey,” Pops said, “Did we wake you?”</p><p>“No, no, just…” Sharon trailed off, picking up on the serious air in the room as she slowed to a stop on the last few steps, “Is everything okay?”</p><p>Part of Virgil, that instinctual snappy side when it came to his sister, wanted to tell her to mind her own business, but he could see the unfiltered concern on her face. It burned away any of her sleepiness, her own set of counselor senses on alert. A familiar feeling squeezed his heart, like back when Virgil had first gotten his powers and Sharon and openly stood up for Static at the breakfast table.</p><p>Still, Virgil looked from Sharon to Richie to Pops, he couldn’t shake the anxiety that maybe it wasn’t the best for her to be here–</p><p>“Richie went through something difficult today, but the discussion is a little personal. Could I ask you to go back upstairs for now?” Pops asked, tone gentle, but everyone knew it wasn’t an actual request.</p><p>Sharon understood though. “Yeah, of course,” and she U-turned her way back up the staircase, offering a, “Hope you’re doing okay, Richie,” before she disappeared.</p><p>Pops waited until he was sure Sharon would be out of earshot before looking down at Richie.</p><p>"Well, that was your parents," Pops said, referring to the phone call, "I had to let them know you were here. They're glad you're somewhere safe."</p><p>"I'm not going h–!" Richie stopped, looking surprised at himself, and with perhaps a touch of shame, took a breath, and tried again, "I don't want to go back home tonight."</p><p>"You don't have to," Pops said, "They thought you'd be the most comfortable staying here."</p><p>Virgil couldn't help the relief that washed over him. He spared Richie a little grin, nudging him with an elbow. Then couldn't help the little feeling of accomplishment at getting Richie to sport a brief smile of his own.</p><p>"Now Virgil," Pops said and Virgil snapped to attention at the sound of his name, "If you wouldn't mind giving us a minute? I'd like to speak with Richie."</p><p> ---</p><p>Pops probably wanted to do his counselor thing. And the parent thing. He usually liked one on one time for important stuff like that. Still, Virgil paced in his room like some kind of agitated bird.</p><p>Walking by his mirror, Virgil caught sight of his arms. He admired them a bit, turning them this way and that to get a better look. He cracked a small smile, his heart warmed. Rainbows and hearts and lightning bolts, and other things like that. The paintings were silly and crudely done – true to the excited young teens who drew them for fun and not professionalism. </p><p>Richie's rainbow had been done at a different booth, sported by his civilian self in the full afternoon swing of the event. Though simple, the palette and detail had been a bit more refined, garnished with metallic touches and glitter. Virgil had watched his face light up when the artist showed Richie his reflection in a mirror.</p><p>The mental image of it faded to the mottled red mess he'd seen on Richie's face. Virgil touched his own cheek. The left. The same that nice fan had kissed earlier today. His brain conjured up an old memory of his moms giving that healing "all better kiss" to his boyhood injuries. And somewhere from within the mash of all these memories, when one thought jumps to another without any restraint or direction, tumbled out an idea that took Virgil with such suddenness and unfamiliarity, he didn’t bother giving it a name before shaking his head, startled, and wrangling his brain back on track.</p><p>
  <em>Augh.</em>
</p><p>Maybe it’d be easier to just get ready for bed. It’d give him a place to direct his energy.</p><p>Just as his thoughts drove him to reach for the knob, the door to his room opened, Virgil narrowly dodging. Light spilled into the quiet darkness of the hallway and once again he and Richie were face to face over the threshold of a door – duffle also again on his shoulder. Richie glanced up at him and as clear as if they were windows, Virgil could see the cogs wildly turning behind Richie’s eyes. His genius brain was alight with racing thoughts that were desperately searching for something. Something from Virgil or something from the depths of his own mind, Virgil didn't know.</p><p>That same need to just <em>be there</em> for Richie rushed over his skin. His heart clenched. His fingers itched. Anything to make Richie stop hurting.</p><p>The two of them had always been physical with each other: fist bumps, sitting close on couches or benches, arms over shoulders, sharing beds at sleepovers, holding each other in the midst of pain and injuries as Static and Gear – that last one was a little newer – but their friendship wasn't as much a hugging type. Not that they never hugged, they used to more as kids Virgil supposed, but maybe as they grew older, they found enough comfort in meaningful glances and the personal exclusivity of their handshake.</p><p>This was not one of those times.</p><p>Virgil opened his arms and everything pent up within Richie looked like it surged to the surface. His face twisted in a kind of relieved anguish and he dropped his bag next to Virgil's desk and lunged forward, throwing his arms around Virgil. They clung to each other, Virgil returning every ounce of force of Richie's fierce grip. After a moment, still holding Richie to him, Virgil freed a hand to quietly close his bedroom door.</p><p>As if the click of the latch was a seal, it made the space suddenly <em>theirs</em>. For the night, nothing outside the room mattered. Virgil realized he found the physical comfort that eluded him down in the living room.</p><p>Then Richie pulled away.</p><p>Something still wasn't quite right. Virgil could see it. The action felt too sudden.</p><p>Setting his suspicions aside for now, Virgil stepped back, a pretense of normalcy, opting to ask something different. "Pops give you the Serious Questions?" He dropped himself on the edge of his bed.</p><p>"Yeah," Richie answered knowingly.</p><p>Both of them were familiar with the kinds of procedures <em>Mr. Hawkins</em> followed down at the center. Dealing with troubled kids often meant cases of physical abuse, addiction, self-harm. It didn't surprise either of them that he'd double check with Richie to make sure everything was okay.</p><p>Richie had kept secrets from Virgil in the past. He was ashamed to mention his dad's bigotry. He actively hid his involvement with Ragtag. He downplayed his trauma at the hands of Brainiac. Hell, he <em>just</em> worked up the courage to come out.</p><p>But Virgil didn't have any doubts when Richie looked at him with a grin and announced, "I got the Hawkins Seal of Approval. In need of therapy? Maybe. But not an immediate concern on your dad's list."</p><p>A half smile tugged at Virgil’s lips despite himself, but it didn’t last. Richie’s chipper attitude didn’t quite reach his eyes. Like Richie was trying to build up this tower of positivity, but Virgil could see it crumbling just as fast as he stacked the blocks. The rain cloud that had been briefly chased away was settling back into place.</p><p>He noticed Richie hadn’t moved. Standing stone still in the middle of Virgil’s room, there was a tired droop in his friend’s shoulders, but Virgil was sure it wasn’t a sleep kind of tired. Leaning back on his hands, Virgil cocked his head a little.</p><p>“You wanna talk about it?”</p><p>A ripple of tension tightened in Richie’s body. There was a storm raging inside him. Virgil could see it. Richie’s fists clenched at his sides. Moments of silence ticked by, but Virgil felt like he was watching the words churning in Richie’s gut, bubbling up like bile to his chest, his throat. Head hung low, he wouldn’t look at Virgil.</p><p>“I...” Richie tried, voice thick. The rest of his sentence hung back in his mouth, not quite finding its way out.  His thumb and forefinger wedged up under the bridge of his glasses and scrubbed at the corners of his eyes.</p><p>"The fight from earlier is just getting to me," Richie dismissed casually. His hand dropped back to his side.</p><p>"That's understandable," Virgil said kindly. "Sounds like it was really rough. And if you're still messed up about it, that's okay…" Virgil decided he wasn't going to push.</p><p>But he didn't need to.</p><p>Everything, after a moment of obvious deliberation, slowly came bubbling to the surface.</p><p>"It's just…" With a soft clear of his throat and an intake of breath, Richie started again. "My dad's never once hit me, but when he came at me, Virg, I–" Richie's voice cracked, raw with anguish, "I was scared. He's just a big dude, y'know? And he was just <em>so mad</em>."</p><p>And suddenly the bubbling started to boil over. Richie’s tower lay in ruins. And the earth was shattering beneath it.</p><p>
  <em>Shit, wait–</em>
</p><p>"Hey, hey, hey," Virgil interrupted, suddenly, gently, realizing he wasn’t ready. He couldn't deal with watching Richie stand so isolated in the middle of the floor. Richie looked so far away. He didn't want Richie to spiral down these memories alone. They needed to readjust. Virgil patted the bed. "Easy man, com'ere, sit down."</p><p>Richie complied, slowly making his way over and sitting down. For some reason Virgil noticed the distance Richie put between them, planting himself on the very corner of the bed, resting his elbows on his thighs.</p><p>"Your pops…?" Virgil attempted to rekindle the conversation now that he felt Richie was more grounded, to show that he still <em>wanted</em> to hear what Richie wanted to say.</p><p>"It's so hard not to be scared of him," Richie continued, "He wins arguments by being the biggest, loudest person in the room. It doesn't matter if he's wrong.” Richie sighed. “He's always been like that." As if the carpet held secrets to some intricate equation, Richie stared down at it, mulling over his next words silently.</p><p>"I told him we all went to the parade, and of course he has his own opinions about how embarrassing <em>those kinds of people</em> can be. '<em>It's just an excuse for people to drink and be sexual in public</em>," Richie mocked, "<em>'They just want to make a spectacle of themselves. They just want attention.</em>'" Richie paused and shook his head. "He's backed off me for the most part at this point, happy to yell at the air in the living room, thinking the world cares what he has to say. I'm just about to go in my room when he starts talking about <em>masculinity</em> and <em>being a man</em> and…"</p><p>Throwing himself backwards on the bed, Richie rolled onto his stomach and reached for a pillow, dragging it towards him. His face was grim at the memory.</p><p>"I just snapped. I just told them, then and there. Said it straight up." Richie brought up a hand, "I get straight A's, I've gotten buff as hell, I can probably get into literally any college I want," He counted them on his fingers as he went, "What more does he want from me? How much more 'of a man' can I be?" A frustrated noise clawed its way out of Richie's throat. "I just–!"</p><p>Like the release switch on a pressure valve, all the fight drained from Richie and he pushed his glasses on top of his head and deflated onto the pillow. Virgil watched the fire of his anger sizzle out under a new wave of tired sadness. For a few quiet moments, Richie just stared off at whatever was in front of him, looking, but not seeing, as his thoughts churned in his head.</p><p>Voice quiet, face half in the pillow, Richie said with a pained voice, "I wanted so bad to tell him I was Gear." He pulled the pillow closer over his face and disappeared for a moment, just breathing, deep and slow and worn. Richie very subtly shook his head to himself. When he resurfaced, "I'm a freaking superhero, <em>Dad</em>. Does that really mean less than the fact I might wanna…" Richie slowed and buried his face in the pillow again, but Virgil could hear a muffled, "Kiss guys sometimes?" Red burned at the tips of Richie's ears.</p><p>Hey, he'd only been somewhat out for three weeks. Being able to say those kinds of things out loud was still something he was getting used to.</p><p>Richie propped himself up on his elbows "Virgil, we're– we're still cool right? Everything's the same?" Richie wasn’t looking at him.</p><p>"Wha–? Rich, I told you. Nothing is gonna change," Virgil smiled with a hint of exasperation on his face. Virgil was referring to that day weeks ago when Richie first came out to him. Richie had expressed a similar fear then too.</p><p>"I know," Richie said, properly chastised by the look Virgil was giving him. "I just had to check. I just–” Richie groaned in frustration, “I just feel like I have to reevaluate everything I do now to make sure people know, you know, it’s not <em>because</em> the gay thing.” Lip curling in a snotty, exasperated way, Richie addressed the air beside him, “No Leon, I didn’t touch your shoulder because I wanna bang you. Sorry Nick, that lingering glance was a coincidence, I don’t think you’re hot, I was thinking about how stupid your hair looks.” Richie’s persona calmed. A sad, thoughtful look washed over him. “No Virgil, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, I just… I just want to be able to touch my best friend without him worrying I’m trying to make a move on him.”</p><p>Oh, that was it.</p><p>Richie hadn’t come out at school yet. For simplicity sake, they considered keeping it on the downlow for now, so Virgil assumed the hypothetical moments with Leon and Nick hadn't actually happened, even if they were something that plagued Richie's mind. No, the real concern Richie was getting at here…</p><p>Was Virgil.</p><p>The hesitation in the bedroom doorway. Pulling away so abruptly from their hug. Sitting at the far edge of the bed. Richie was carefully measuring each and every physical action to make sure he didn't overstep any bounds. </p><p>How dare he.</p><p>No one keeps Virgil's best friend away from him. Not even the best friend himself.</p><p>"Alright," Virgil declared, tapping Richie's shoulder with the back of his hand as he stood up, "Since you wanna get your hands all over this hot bod so badly," Richie groaned as Virgil ran his hands down the sides of his own body in an exaggerated, sensual way, "You can help me get all this off." Virgil gestured to his arms, which were still coated thick in painted designs and doodles.</p><p>And Richie, who looked quite caught between wanting to laugh and wanting to disown him, followed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Me, writing scenes for this fic: Where are Richie's glasses? Did I move them yet? Did he take them off?</p><p>When writing, I say all my dialogue out loud, so all 'wanna's, 'gonna's, 'com'ere's, or other causal speech is a written version of what I think best represents what I hear myself say. (Tbh, if I was 100% true to how talk, there'd be a lot fewer g's at the end of -ing endings lmao)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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